


Impeccable Timing

by Phantom



Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 21:50:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantom/pseuds/Phantom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Slight spoilers for 2.14 "All In."] In which Rusty chooses the most obnoxious moment possible to have a personal crisis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impeccable Timing

"Shaaaaaron."

Rusty knew that his timing was less than ideal, he really did. But he couldn't help when he thought of things, and sometimes that happened when Sharon was taking the fastest shower in history because she couldn't control when people died and now she was running late. He still thought that it was a thought she needed to hear, though, so the moment he heard the shower turn off, he went from the couch to the bathroom door in two seconds flat, raising a hand to knock. "Are you almost done in there?"

"Just a moment," Sharon called back. "Do you need the bathroom?"

"I need to talk to you."

"Rusty, it'll have to wait."

"It's important," he insisted.

There was a slight pause. "Are you injured?"

"No, I'm not _injured,_ " Rusty said, huffing at the closed door. _Really_. "Because I am not a _child_ , Sharon, how many times do I have to tell you?"

"Then go watch TV. I'll be out in a minute." Her voice was muffled by the door and by the fan, but her impatience was louder than both.

"Fine," he said. "Ignore me."

"I am _trying_ , I assure you."

But the door opened a moment later, and a bathrobe-wrapped Sharon sighed at him from behind a curtain of wet hair. "Okay, okay," she relented, turning away from him even as she spoke. "You may talk to me while I get ready. But the minute Andy and Lieutenant Provenza—"

"Who the hell is Andy?"

"Lieutenant Flynn, Rusty," she said distractedly. Sharon frowned, shifting from side to side before turning in a slow, complete circle and reaching into the pocket of her robe. Her shoulders relaxed (he hadn't realized they were tense) when her hand emerged with the fingers wrapped around the handle of her hairbrush. "As I was saying, the minute they get here, I am _leaving_ and Lieutenant Provenza will take you to dinner."

"No," he protested. "No way. I'm not going _anywhere_ with that stupid security detail."

"Order in, then," she said. "I don't care. Now, what's the matter?"

He watched her drag the brush through her hair more vigorously than seemed... normal, and his eyes slid past her to take in the mess of makeup brushes and perfume bottles that were usually neatly stored in her room, and once he saw that he saw how she bounced on the balls of her feet.

"Um, are you busy or something?"

And she paused mid-stroke to pivot towards him, her expression exasperated and so utterly _Sharon_ that he stared. " _Rusty_."

"Because," he went on, "it's not really a _huge_ thing, just, you know, _kind of_ a big one and it can wait—"

"No." She cut him off with another sigh, and waved with her free hand towards the wall. "Sit. Talk. I want to enjoy my night without worrying that you've adopted another crisis."

"It's just that..." He leaned back against the wall and slid down until he was sitting, drawing his knees up to his chest. "Dr. Joe finished my evaluation today."

"Oh?" She always did that, made some careful little neutral-sounding noise when she wasn't sure where he was going but wanted to guide him anyway. "How was that?"

"It was fine, I guess. No," he said, when she half-turned towards him. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the loud hum of her hairdryer. "That's not the important thing. I was just wondering—you know how you said that I could, you know, participate in a police operation or whatever—and I know you agreed but you don't like it, so... thank you for that, I guess, but you said you'd let me do this as long as the shrink said that I could, right?"

He figured the little bob of her head was supposed to be a nod.

"So, like, what if Dr. Joe says he doesn't think it's a good idea?" he said. "What if I spent all this time with him for nothing?"

There was a pause while Sharon set the hair dryer to the side. She leaned against the doorframe with folded arms, taking a moment to study him. And _that_ , right there, was why Rusty was willing to take his chances with Phillip Stroh and all his creep friends, because Sharon cared, and she made sure that he _knew_ that she cared.

"I was hoping," she said quietly, "that you might learn to think of your sessions with Dr. Joe as being useful in and of themselves, and not just as means to an end. But you're right. That's a good question."

"And?" he prompted.

"And—" Sharon glanced at her wrist, and frowned to find it bare.

"Counter," he said. "Next to the brush."

"Thank you." She glanced at her watch before she fastened it around her wrist. "And do you think we could talk about it tomorrow?"

"But—"

"Please?"

Sharon didn't usually _ask_ for things.

Rusty swallowed back his long list of complaints when he took another look at her. She was still bouncing.

"You're really excited about this _Nutcracker_ thing, huh?"

Sharon made a happy little hum in her throat, and then shut the door to get dressed. That was a yes, then. She'd taken him to the ballet before. He still wasn't sure what she'd been hoping he would appreciate, but she'd enjoyed it well enough to drag him to three more and along the way, he'd gotten a pretty good idea of what Sharon usually wore to these things and it wasn't a slim-fitting red dress and a pearl necklace.

Rusty blinked.

Maybe she was feeling Christmasy, he thought. She _had_ wanted to buy a Christmas tree for every room.

Who knew?

"Why are you leaving so early, anyway?" he asked, rearranging his legs until he sat cross-legged. "I thought it didn't start until eight."

"Well, no," she said, worrying her lip as she rifled through her makeup bag. "But Andy—Lieutenant Flynn—is taking me to dinner first."

And she smiled—she _smiled_ —and, wait. "Lieutenant Flynn's taking you on a _date_?"

He was sure he hadn't meant to sound quite so... horrified. But. _Sharon_. On a _date._ With _Lieutenant Flynn_.

"It's not a date, Rusty," she said without looking up, still hesitating over her eyeshadow. She held one in each hand and frowned at them both before setting them to the side. "Andy had an extra ticket, that's all. Besides, I'm married."

She wasn't _married_ married.

And being married wasn't enough to stop most people, but this was Sharon he was thinking about, and "til death do us part" was pretty big, as far as the rules went. But he didn't say that, because her smile had disappeared at the mention of her marriage, and... well, whatever it was, she was excited for it and maybe a little nervous, which was kind of strange because when was Sharon ever nervous?

Either way, she would probably appreciate it if he left her alone to finish getting ready.

Rusty climbed to his feet. "I should finish my homework," he told her. "Before Lieutenant Provenza gets here. You... you look nice, Sharon."

She was bent over the counter painting a clear coat on her nails, and he waited a moment but still wasn't sure that she'd heard him. In the end, he headed down the hall to his room without another word, and left her humming "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy" under her breath.


End file.
